La Danza y Relación con la Educación

Whilst we ate kanom (sweet cakes or biscuits) and chatted about their daily lives growing

up as Khon Isan, the political and social world these young people awoke to each day was dominated by Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s populist politics of ‘Think New,

Act New’ reform. The centrepiece of Thaksin’s reform agenda was a social order

campaign, run by the aptly named Interior Minister Purachai Piumsombun. This campaign was designed to address two causes of moral panic within Thai society: the boom in the informal economy of amphetamine and methamphetamine production and the apparent infiltration of these highly addictive drugs in mainstream Thai society, particularly among high school students; and, the apparent corruption of sexual morality (a singularly Western disease according to Thai politicians, policy makers and mainstream tabloid media). Again, this problem was supposedly rife among young people.

In Thailand amphetamines and

methamphetamines are now

commonly referred to as

yaa baa, meaning the ‘crazy

drug’. The original colloquial Thai term for these drugs was

yaa maa (horse drug). While the current term yaa baa has been in usage since at least the 1960s139, it was pro-actively encouraged in Thai public discourse during a

139 _{Charles Keyes. (2011, 17 April). Official communication.}

Front page photograph, The Nation, 26 April 2002. (Picture courtesy: The Nation)

1996 public awareness campaign by then Health Minister Sanoh Thienthong under General Chavalit’s cabinet. Constructing state consciousness through mass publicity campaigns reflects Thailand’s long-held political culture of nation-state building based on moral obligation. In his 2008 ethnographic study of Thai police culture and the 2002– 2003 ‘War on Drugs’, Eric Haanstad describes a Thai education system, that “…stresses conformity, rote memorization and obedience to the three pillars of the modern Thai nation state: nation, religion and monarchy”, as the bedrock for a morally saturated ‘fantasy nation’ that is “…as disconnected from “reality” as the ATS [opium, heroin and amphetamine-type stimulants] culture it supposedly fights”.140 The social order solution for the production and usage of these drugs was a morally questionable shoot first, zero tolerance policy towards alleged methamphetamine manufacturers, traffickers and users, which led to the shooting deaths (what would be called extra judicial killings in western democracy) of hundreds of suspects, including Burmese refugees who had been forcibly conscripted into the industry.

But of more interest to the young people in my study was the Government's approach to

solving the so-called problem of sexual immorality. An editorial piece in The Nation on 4

March 2002 attempts to sum up the source of this ‘moral panic’:

There has been a sharp, generational shift in attitudes and practices over the last few years. The new generation start younger. They do it more casually. They often do it more carelessly too. Sexual

explicitness has risen in the public culture. Nice girls who model or act now take off their clothes for the front pages of the daily papers and glossy magazines. Television dramas are fascinated with violent rape. Teenage fashion has become aggressively sexy.141

Other moral panic assertions included high school and university students selling sex to

buy mobile phones and hip clothing, male youths offering the sexual favours of their girlfriends as stakes in video-game competitions and teenage partner swapping for casual

sex.142 Strategies to combat the moral lassitude of young people included 10 pm curfews

at night spots frequented by teenagers and a ban on karaoke booths in shopping malls that

140

Haanstad, E. (2008). Constructing order through chaos: A state ethnography of the Thai police. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA, p. 100.

141 _{Chang Noi . (2002, March 4). Social order and moral panic. The Nation, p. 5A.}

catered specifically to under-18s who could not access adult music and dance venues. Purachai’s reasons for the ban included the fact that secret cameras in karaoke booths had

revealed images of young couples “...engaged in intimate behaviour”.143 He says nothing

about the unethical practice of spying on young people! The gender equality implications

of Purachai’s social control policies will be discussed in Chapter four. Some of Purachai’s social control ideology belonged in the realm of the ridiculous, such as directing parents to read Aesop’s fables and success stories of famous public figures to their young children at bedtime because Thai children had a moral obligation to “…help bring the country out of crisis”, even if this meant subjugating fun: “If our children are still wasting money on drinking and on entertaining themselves, to whom can we put the responsibility of taking care of our beloved country?”144

Purachai’s zero tolerance offensive to tackle substance abuse and dealing among high school students included sending in ‘anti-drug swat teams’ to more than 8,000 education

institutions, mainly high schools and vocational colleges (rajabhats). These teams would

encourage students to declare themselves as drug users or sellers; however, if this failed then teachers and students would be encouraged to inform on those they suspected of being involved, and these alleged drug users or sellers would then be encouraged to confess, and if they failed to do so they would then undergo compulsory urine testing. At the time this particular drug offensive was being launched in the media, Office of Narcotics Control Board director Pinyo Thongchai said: “We will put the drug taking students in treatment programmes while the dealers will be sent to a camp to change behaviour”.145

The use of public shame merges well with the three pillar model of Thai national identity construction based on nation, religion and monarchy.

Throughout 2002 as I ran focus groups and conducted personal interviews with the students, there was no mention of impacts from this so-called ‘offensive’ within their own tertiary environments. The only participants who mentioned substance abuse were

143 _{Kitja Leeprasirtwong & Waraporn Sukkasem. (2002, March 19). Karaoke booths join Purachai’s} casualty list. The Nation, p. 1A.

144 _{Bedtime story from Purachai. (2002, March 3). The Nation, p. 2A.}

145 _{Piyanart Srivalo. (2002, February 20). Anti-drug crusade: Scheme to target 8,000 schools. The Nation,} p. 2A.

those former users in the Ruam Mit Bakery focus group, who were generally afraid of the involvement of Thai officialdom. This fear appeared to stem from an overwhelming sense that their struggle with substance abuse was viewed by government authorities as a criminal rather than a social problem. They spoke of the support they received from the non-government Ruam Mit Bakery project and how this type of intervention was invaluable to getting their lives back on track because it provided vocational training, including small business management and finance, that could be used to help them establish a small venture like running their own noodle stall. It was practical and accessible. Jeab, a single mother of three small children, ended up at Ruam Mit Bakery after coming clean almost 10 years after being addicted to yaa baa as a 13-year-old school girl. Jeab was born and raised in the Klong Toey slum district of Bangkok, but through her life circumstances has come to view the Isan province of Yasothon as her home. As a teenager she left the family home in Klong Toey to live with her husband, also a yaa baa addict, who beat her if she refused to deal drugs for him. She later placed her children at a non-government foundation supporting people with HIV and orphans in Yasothon to protect them from the domestic violence at home. The foundation later assisted Jeab to quit her drug addiction by placing her within the Wat Suan Kaew Foundation’s community in Nonthaburi, established by revered Buddhist monk Phra Payom. They later organised a position for Jeab with the Ruam Mit Bakery in Chiang Mai. Her goal was to set up a small grocery stand in Yasothon and earn enough to care for her children again. She said she would not return to Bangkok to raise her children. SUB-CULTURAL TERRAIN: YOUTH ENVIRONMENTS AND RECREATION

The young people in my study generally followed the media debate unfolding around Purachai’s social control campaign in abstract – curious but not directly affected or engaged. The main reason for this sense of being one step removed from the impact zone of policies directly targeted at their own peer group appeared to be the sense of autonomy afforded to them as students living away from their home environment. This feeling of independence, coupled with immersion in their studies and extra-curricular activities, provided a sub-cultural terrain that buffeted them from directly feeling the impact of the social control initiatives being introduced practically daily.

Parallel universe: The Khon Kaen University environment

Located four kilometres north of the city on 2,500 acres of partially uncleared land, Khon Kaen University (KKU) is the northeast’s main tertiary institute. Founded in 1964, KKU currently has 21 faculties offering undergraduate and postgraduate studies across the discipline spectrum. KKU is home to some 24,000 undergraduate and 9,700 postgraduate students. The small business infrastructure that has evolved in the immediate surrounds of the Khon Kaen University campus provides a kind of parallel universe for KKU students – a satellite village offering a high degree of autonomy. This infrastructure includes the obvious student support services such as photocopying, printing, stationary supplies and information technology support. However, of far more importance to the students’ sense of independence and confidence as emerging young adults are the food halls, restaurants and cafes, including internet cafes, where they congregate daily to read, study, SMS and make mobile calls, listen to portable music devices, use the internet and generally socialise. Most of the students appeared to have their own motorbikes, some even cars, affording them mobility across the expanse of the large sprawling campus.

From my personal observations over the course of a year – this was a world where parental authority was reduced to the occasional semester visit and regular mobile phone conversations. This was a striking

observation because having

previously taught and lived amongst senior high school and tertiary students who lived at home whilst they studied (in Bangkok and Chiang Mai) – it seemed that these young people, coming from other regional centres, smaller towns or villages throughout the Isan region, had made a monumental transition from highly supervised and controlled lives in their family homes to a relatively autonomous and parent-free environment. And for the most part, they appeared to take this transition pretty much in

Female KKU students cruise across the campus. Picture: Catherine Hesse-Swain, 2002.

their stride, maintaining regular class attendance and fulfilling the requirements of their chosen study area.

Most students lived on campus in shared student accommodation, which obviously provided a level of social control as they were required to abide by the hostel rules and supervision. Student hostels usually had a curfew in place of 10 or 11 pm on weekdays and midnight on weekends. The respected role of the university ajarn and parental expectations of them as responsible students further reinforced a sense of social structure and cohesion. So this was by no means a free-for-all student environment. In the West (excluding religious colleges in the US) tertiary students possess a relatively high degree of personal autonomy. In the Thai context, however, the extent of independence afforded to KKU students did surprise me. Whether by design or by accident (the latter appears more likely), this university has evolved a subculture of freedom that appears to sustain the students whilst still maintaining appropriate levels of social control. These observations certainly made a mockery of Purachai’s puerile approach to ridding Thai society of moral corruption by imposing strict social controls on young people.

All the KKU students I came into contact with, either as study participants or socially, said they had no direct experience of illegal substance use by them or their groups of friends. Of course they would probably err on the side of caution and not divulge information about any drug-related experiences to me directly, although they were quick to highlight that obviously drug taking did occur amongst the campus population. My research assistant Bim relayed a conversation she had had with a local policeman who said that drug use was quite extensive at KKU, but again she emphasised that she had no personal experience of this and had not observed anyone taking drugs in her presence. When I questioned her and her male friend further about the kinds of drugs, they said

“amphetamines or worse”, but when I asked what they meant by worse they didn’t name

any other drugs.146 With regard to alcohol use it was frequently mentioned by female students that most male students drank whisky or beer on a daily basis. However, most of the male students in my study said they only drank alcohol as a fun activity (i.e. that it

was reserved for partying on special occasions). The female students reported that on the whole they did not drink alcohol.

Whilst most KKU study participants had watched TV regularly from early childhood, they often commented that they were unable to enjoy TV recreationally during semester time because there were either no or very few TVs in their student accommodation. For this reason, music maintained a larger space in their recreational and social universe. Many students frequently commented that they listened to hardcore rock, particularly Japanese bands. However, a number of other students commented that although Japanese hard core bands were still popular (such as gla and l’arc en ciel), they had personally grown tired of them and preferred a range of music – mainly western and Thai pop. My research assistant said she believed the Japanese bands were more popular with secondary school students.147 Students reported that live bands didn’t perform at the campus; however, there was a university music group that played western popular music and performed every now and then, but these performances did not attract much attendance. There is also a traditional Isan music performance group. There was overwhelming agreement from across the KKU Focus Groups and other students I established friendships with, that the independence of the university environment was highly valued. They had everything they needed, except a disco, but this was addressed informally by regularly holding impromptu discos in their student rooms.

Living their traditional music roots: Rajabhat Mahasarakham

All the students in the Rajabhat Mahasarakham focus groups were members of a 40-strong Isan music performance band. They unanimously favoured contemporary folk (lukthung) and ‘songs for life’ (phlaeng pleuh chiwit) – both of these music genres will be discussed further in the next section entitled ‘Lao Isan Youth and TV’:

Catherine: What kind of television shows do you like to watch?

Student: Concerts, live music.

C: Whose concerts do you like?

S: Noo Meter148 – folk music.

C: You don’t like country (traditional Isan) music?

S: No, only folk music.149

Using only traditional Isan instruments, the band played traditional Isan morlam and

lukthung music. Institutionally, the Rajabhat places great emphasis on student participation in maintaining and developing local Isan music, using a quota system that accepts a number of students based on their traditional Isan music skills rather than their academic skills. Practicing and performing in the band was an integral and much-enjoyed aspect of their student life. The band appeared to provide their main recreational activity outside formal study:

Toto: We play in a school band right now. It’s called Kaen Isan

(Isan Core). We’re a local band. Catherine: How many people are in the band?

Pui: About 40. This is not many at all.

C: Is it a club?

Pui: It’s a quota for students who are skilled traditional Isan musicians.

C: When you have a show, do all 40 members perform together?

Toto: Almost. Some go. Some don’t.

C: Do you perform often?

Toto: Yes often – there are always school festivals. There are a lot of shows where we can perform for the public as well. We rehearse every Monday to Wednesday.

C: How many hours?

Toto: From 5 to 8pm.150

What surprised me was not their active engagement in their musical pursuits, but the level of passion these young Isan people felt for their traditional Isan musical inheritance, frequently referring with pride to learning their instrument from an older relative:

Catherine: Did you play any instruments when you were a kid? Toto: I played Isan Pin (Isan guitar). It has only 3 strings.

C: How old were you? Who taught you to play?

Toto: I was 9. My grandfather (paternal) taught me. Goong: I play Pong-Lang (Isan xylophone).

C: Did you play when you were young?

Goong: When I was 10.

C: Who taught you?

148

Thai male lukthung vocalist Noo Meter produced a number of big hits on the lukthung scene throughout the 2000s and is still highly popular.

149 _{Youth focus group, Rajabhat Mahasarakham, Mahasarakham, 15 January 2002.} 150 _Ibid.

Goong: My uncle plays Pong Lang. He teaches Pong Lang. I saw him play and I liked it so I started to learn. There’s a cultural centre in my Amphur (District) so I went there to play and practice.151

The students in the Rajabhat Mahasarakham focus groups were not only confident in their preference for speaking pasar Isan (Lao), but also strongly identified with their Isan heritage through their active interest in playing traditional Isan instruments and performing local Isan music. This does not mean they did not also gravitate towards

contemporary forms of Thai music, such as lukthung and phlaeng pleuh chiwit;however,

it was clear that they did not take as much interest in the Thai or international pop/rock scene as the KKU students in my study. One reason for this may be that most of the rajabhat participants were from small villages throughout Isan, while the KKU students tended to come from urbanised settings – provincial towns, other regional centres like Ubon Ratchathani or Khon Kaen itself. Conversely, the Rajabhat would also attract students with local music interests due to its Isan music talent quota. The correlation between these two aspects should not be ignored though – that is, the students interested in local music traditions and less globalised in their musical tastes, also tended to come from smaller village settings in Isan where traditional music formats were still common- day expressions of Isan culture and identity. Interestingly, this appetite for Isan belonging did not stop with the playing of Isan instruments and music, but also found expression